The Jazz Hand Killer
by Ashbear02
Summary: Aaron Hotchner is the chief of the BAU, and he takes his job incredibly seriously. But things get personal when a serial killer in New Orleans forces him to cross paths with Dr. Spencer Reid, professor of criminology.
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Jazz Hand Killer

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Hotch/Reid

Rating: PG (at the moment at least)

Summary: Aaron Hotchner is the chief of the BAU, and he takes his job incredibly seriously. But things get personal when a serial killer in New Orleans forces him to cross paths with Dr. Spencer Reid, professor of criminology.

Note: So I love AU's, I adoooore them. And this plot bunny hit me? And I couldn't _not_ run with it. =3 Hope you like it, there should be more soon.

Aaron Hotchner stifled a yawn as he got his coffee from the break room, he was about to jog up the stairs when Morgan reached out a hand to stop him. He turned to his subordinate with a quirked brow, and the look on the darker man's face didn't bode well. "They're at it again, just thought I'd warn you." Aaron almost groaned aloud, he nodded at the younger man in thanks before starting up the stairs and resolutely ignoring the two men in the office next to his own. He was _not_ going to get in the middle of one of Gideon and Rossi's arguments this early on a Monday.

Of course Rossi stormed through door and threw himself onto Aaron's couch before he could get half done with his coffee and properly caffeinated. The older man had that stormy, frustrated, stubborn look that he always had when he tried to bully Aaron into settling a dispute between him and Gideon. Aaron sighed, "No. Just no."

"But Aaron-"

Before he could finish there was a hesitant rap at Aaron's door-frame and they looked up to see an almost frightened looking Jordan Todd, and Aaron felt a headache coming on. He just waved at Todd's almost redundant "We've got a case, round table in 10?"

Rossi glared at her until she left, "As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted..."

Aaron's headache was already gathering at the base of his skull, "She's just doing her job Dave and not now, go get ready for the meeting. The argument over who's going to write a paper on the Hankel case isn't anyone's business but yours and for once I refuse to get involved." He chugged the rest of his coffee, "Now if you'll confuse me I have to go get more coffee, and hopefully a fist full of Tylenol."

Rossi grunted a bit as Aaron pushed back from his desk and strode out of the room, he attempted a smile at Penelope as he approached the coffee pot. The smile failed and she heaved a sigh, "What're they arguing about now?" She deftly stole his coffee mug and filled it up before fixing it the way he liked it.

Aaron sighed as he poked around the communal first aide kit for some sort of pain pills, "They both want to write a paper on the Hankel case."

"Do you think they even realize how twistedly gross that is?" She sounded wistful as she held out his coffee, "Headache?"

He nodded miserably as he gave up on the kit and took his coffee from her, "Yeah."

She smirked and took down the extra container of decaf coffee grounds and opened it to reveal Styrofoam encasing a large pill bottle of Tylenol. Hotch stared at it blankly before looking up at her smirk, "You...how?"

She looked smug, "You think your the only one who gets headaches around here? Have you heard the way Elle and Emily shout at each other? It's _insane_. Why they can't just get over it and be friends I have no idea." 

Hotch poured 4 pills into his hand before swallowing all four at once and replacing the bottle, "I think it has something to do with Elle being convinced that Emily bought her position."

Penelope pursed her lips as she replaced the carton and turned back to him, "I know that much, but it's stupid. They risk their lives almost constantly in the field but still end up hating each other's guts."

"You don't have to like someone to trust that they wont let you get shot." Hotch sighed wishing the liquid gels would work instantly instead of taking some time, "Come on then, we should get to the meeting room."

"Fine but I'm not sitting between them."

Aaron snorted, "Well, you can sit between Dave and Jason then. God knows I don't want to."

"I can deal with that."

"Deal with what?" Morgan's voice was bored as he caught up with them.

Penelope smirked, "That's confidential." The younger man pouted, and she laughed. "No really that wont work mister, now come on before they eat Jordan."

Morgan wiggled his eyebrows, "I'd eat Jordan-"

Penelope's gaze turned flinty, "Sometimes Derek Morgan." She increased her pace and passed the men easily.

Aaron shook his head, "Seriously?"

"It was a joke!" Morgan sounded a bit confused and Aaron was glad he'd already taken his pills.

"Well save the jokes for Elle, she might actually find them funny. Penelope's...well she's..." Aaron sighed searching for a way to explain why Penelope wouldn't find them amusing without giving away that she was hopelessly in love with Morgan. "She's more classy than that."

Thankfully they'd reached the conference room by that time and Morgan didn't have time to respond. Penelope avoided both their gazes as the team got settled, and Aaron felt a stab of empathy for her. He understood what it was like to want something you couldn't have, he knew it all too well. He sighed as Jordan bustled into the room and allowed himself to slip into Agent Hotchner mode as the serious work began.

She handed them each a folder containing the pictures and forms "Okay, so there's been a string of murders in New Orleans. They're up to 7, they are a bit late realizing this is a serial killer at all because the victims were all so diverse. They range between blondes, brunnettes, white, black, male, female; even the way they were killed varies from victim to victim. The only things the victims had in common was that they were all Jazz performers, and that there hands were in some way mutilated, the latest's hands were severed completely."

She paused to look at them all for a moment before sighing, "The latest victim's manager, one Jennifer Jareau, was the one to actually point out to the police that they were connected. Ethan Mann was apparently on the verge of 'making it big', and when he died his manager stormed into the police head-quaters demanding to know why the Jazz community hadn't been warned. She's not pleased."

Morgan shifted in his seat, "Could she be involved?"

Hotch frowned, "There's that possibility, but it's highly unlikely. These murders were all increasingly violent. And female serial killers..."

"She could be a part of a team?" Emily tapped her lip thoughtfully with a pen.

Elle scoffed, "You always think it's a team."

Emily scowled, "It was just an idea."

"It's something to look into. That's good." Rossi's voice was sharp as he interrupted the two women who were openly scowling at each other.

Jordan cleared her throat, "Well it might help to know that she dragged a friend of the victim in with her to support her claim. He was Dr. Spencer Reid, a professor of Criminal Justice at Loyola." She raised her eyebrows and there was silence for a moment, before Gideon nodded slowly.

"That...makes it seem much more likely." The older man sounded thoughtful and he was gazing at the picture of Ethan Mann in a way that Hotch couldn't pin down.

Hotch also noticed Penelope's silence it was off somehow, and she looked stiff. He tried to shake it off as a lingering reaction to Morgan's comment as he stood, "Alright, meet at the plane in an hour then."

He was slightly shocked when Penelope grabbed his wrist as he left to go, "Sir..." she bit her lip, "Sir I'd like to go with you."

Aaron blinked, "Why? Wouldn't it be safer for you to stay here?"

She nodded and her frown deepened, "Yes, but I'd still like to go."

"Can you tell me why?" He studied her face as she shook her head vigorously, "Will you be able to do just as much for us while we're in New Orleans as you could from here?"

She tried to smile, "Of course!"

"Then yes, you can come. But you'll need to tell me if it involves the case at any point." He didn't know why but the way Penelope's eyes were pleading with him was working more than it would normally. He sighed as she gave a brilliant smile and hugged him. "You'll need to be at the airstrip on time though." He tried to sound stern, but from the way she nodded and almost skipped away he knew he failed.

Spencer Reid, the youngest man to ever be a fully accredited professor at Loyola University, stared at the thesis in front of him as he numbly graded papers. There was a lingering presser behind his eyes that mirrored the almost crushing pressure in his chest. All he could really think of was Ethan, and how he'd never get to talk to his long time friend again. They'd started out as rivals, but in the end it'd developed into a deep friendship. It had helped that Ethan had dropped Criminology to play Jazz full time, but really they'd been friends long before that. Just increasingly competitive friends, which really only made Spencer appreciate that friendship more. There were very few people that even tried to compete with him intellectually. He'd miss that about Ethan, but he'd miss his friend's husky laugh even more.

He glanced at JJ, who was asleep on his couch, face still puffy from tears and devastation clearly written across her face. Spencer sighed wishing they were different people, that he hadn't been gay or that she'd been a man or that this hadn't happened at all; he knew she needed someone to lean on, he also knew that she needed far more support than he could give. He was barely supporting himself at the moment.

He briefly considered waking her to drive her home, but decided against it. She needed rest, Ethan had been her best friend and she'd loved him far more than Ethan had known. Spencer had always been aware that JJ was in love with his friend, it'd been too easy to spot since he'd felt the same way; he'd long wondered if JJ'd figured him out as well but she'd never mentioned it.

He sighed and abandoned the paper, it was too early to go to sleep but he knew he at least needed caffeine before he could finish. He tried to be as silent as possible as he eased open the hall closet to pull out a light blanket to cover his friend with, it was a testament to how exhausted she was that she barely stirred as he tucked her in.

He gazed down at her briefly wishing they were different people, before turning to his kitchen to make coffee. It'd be a very long day, especially since he was very aware that the first suspects the FBI would have in mind were JJ and himself. It'd take some convincing to force them to realize that it hadn't been either of them, but Spencer was determined to help find the person who'd killed his friend.

The FBI took longer to show up than he'd thought, and as he answered the door he realized he was frowning. "It took you people long enough."

He was greeted by a tall brown man and a short pale woman with severe bangs and a prominent nose, both looked nonplussed by his greeting. The man spoke first, "Um, I'm Agent Derek Morgan and this is Agent Emily Prentiss and we'd like to ask you a few questions ab-"

"I know what you want to ask, and that's fine. But please, give me a moment to wake JJ she's still asleep and you'll want to question her as well." Spencer knew his tone was sharp and that he was being incredibly hostile but he couldn't find it in him to care.

The woman narrowed her eyes at him, "JJ? You mean Jennifer Jareau? She's _here_?"

Spencer fought the urge to twitch, "Yes." he turned sharply, leaving them to follow or not. They'd wasted precious time already, and he couldn't find it in him to care that he was being rude.

JJ hadn't stirred since that morning, and he felt incredibly guilty waking her. But as he gently shook her shoulder he caught sight of the agents hovering awkwardly in the doorway and knew he had no choice. As she blinked at him he wondered in a detached sort of way what they'd think about him from his decorating, or non-decorating as the case would be.

JJ shook her head slightly as she struggled to sit up, "Spence? I had...the weirdest dream. It was terribly...E-ethan was killed and we..." She blinked at him for a moment and he could tell from her face that she could tell from his that it hadn't been a dream. Tears welled up in her eyes again and he swallowed thickly, "Oh _Spence_." The devastation in her voice naturally lead to him pulling her into an awkward hug, and she sniffled against his shirt.

"Jayj. The FBI are here, they have to ask us some questions. I warned you about this remember?" She nodded against his chest before pulling away.

She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, "I remember. Do they want to do it here or...?"

They both jerked to look at the two strangers when the man said, "The station would be better, also it'd be easier to rule you out as suspects if we could get finger prints and DNA."

JJ nodded wanly and again Spencer wished things were different, but they weren't. So in the end he allowed the agents to pack him and JJ into the back of a black SUV to take them into the station. He wondered about just what this would be like, he'd never been on this side of the law before.

But as soon as they'd walked into the tall brick building that was the police station there was a very loud, "OH MY GOD IT IS YOU!" and suddenly JJ was being swept into a hug by a very blonde woman that Spencer had never seen.

What happened afterward was chaos, and Spencer could feel a migraine coming on. Suddenly JJ was sobbing, and the brown man was shouting at the blonde woman, and the blonde woman was shouting back, and then the woman with the bangs said something soothing and another woman made a comment and before long Spencer had lost track of who was doing/saying what. Finally though there was silence when someone behind Spencer slammed a door and they all turned to see a tall man with dark hair glaring at them.

"Penelope you'll bring Ms. Jareau and Mr. Reid with us as we get their prints and DNA. The rest of you have a job to do, and I expect you to get back to doing it. _Now._" his voice was measured, calm, and in an odd way commanding. Spencer felt a small part of himself swoon, even as the rest of him glared at it. But there was something about that man, Spencer wanted to know more.


	2. Chapter 2

Aaron Hotchner knew two things the moment he laid eyes on Spencer Ried; first there was _no _way that man had killed 7 people, second was that in the most basic way he _wanted_ the younger man. As usual he was able to push his baser instincts down to focus oh glaring at a recalcitrant Penelope who was supporting the sobbing blonde woman. He massaged his temple before following the three others into the processing room.

Penelope was settling the other woman in a chair when she finally said, "Sir...I can explain..."

"There isn't much to explain Penelope, you knew you knew a suspect and you insisted on coming anyway." He paused to glare at her a bit more intensely for a moment as she fidgeted, "You could have at least told _me_, I'd have let you come anyway. You know that."

Penelope sighed, "I'm sorry sir. Really I just-"

"Not now. Save it for later." He held up a hand and raised an eyebrow, the silent 'not while we have possible suspects in the room' rang between them unsaid.

The tall man cleared his throat, "I'd like to get this over with? Please? It's just I've always y'know watched this happening to others so it happening to me is odd."

The woman in the chair gave another choked sob that sounded oddly like "God, Spencer who _cares at this point?_"

Penelope smiled wanly at Aaron, "I'll take JJ. Finger Prints and mouth swab right?"

Hotch nodded silently as he turned to the younger man who's hands were casually stuffed into his pockets, he felt himself sigh. "So I take it you'd rather do the mouth swab first then?"

Almost immediately the younger man's hands were held in front of him, palms up. Hotch tried not to notice the way his eyes dilated just a bit, or the way his prominent adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed nervously. Hotch was reasonably sure he didn't necessarily need to take the extra precaution of grasping the man's hand and guiding it from the ink to the paper or to gently press the pad of his fingers to the designated squares over and over and over, but he told himself it was purely professional. He'd hate for somehow the fingerprints to...not come out right and have then man get in trouble for it. Later he'd tell himself that cleaning the blushing man's fingers himself with the baby wipe had been a form of apology; of course Hotch had gotten very good at lying to himself.

He was fairly sure however that they were both fully aware of the fact that Aaron had spent far more time than necessary swabbing the inside of the taller man's cheek, but really he was far too pretty sitting there with his mouth open to not take his time on the job. Finally though he pulled back and again he spared a brief thought on how no man swallowing should be that sexual.

From then on out however he had to pull himself back to Agent mode and try to stop looking at the man like he'd want to, as Morgan had so lovingly phrased it earlier, "eat" him. He sighed as he turned from the man to gather the blonde womans, Ms. Jareau's, prints and sample from Penelope to take them to a tech. With curt instructions to made the results first priority, he was on his way back to the holding room.

He gestured for Penelope to join him in the hall for a moment, and he caught a glimpse of the tall man staring at the clearly distraught woman with a set jaw. Penelope shut the door behind her carefully, looking at him nervously from under her eyelashes in a way that Hotch had always found endearing. She knew this and was obviously using it to her advantage, the sneaky bitch.

"Sir, I really am sorry. I just knew that if it was my JJ she'd need me and I couldn't not risk it you know? I should have trusted you."

Of course staying mad at Penelope was fairly impossible, so Hotch sighed again and realized that very soon he'd need pain killers again. "What's done is done, will you tell me at least how you know her now?"

Garcia sighed, "Well it's...it's sort of silly." Hotch crossed his arms and sent her a stare, she bit her lip before shaking her head. "Okay, so you know in high school how you used to have sort of pen pals?" Hotch blinked at her and nodded, Penelope sighed again. "Well JJ was mine. Except we ended up trading phone numbers and email addresses, and in college we met up a few times. She told me she'd moved to New Orleans to manage a Jazz singer she'd met and I thought she was crazy. But Hotch, she _couldn't _ kill anyone. I promise. I don't know about this Spencer Reid character yet, but JJ? She couldn't."

Hotch shook his head, "We'll know soon. Thankfully this killer is reckless enough to leave behind fingerprints and DNA."

"Do I want to know how he left the DNA?" Her voice was soft.

Hotch paused for a moment, "You'll find out soon enough, we'll need you to run down a few leads shortly, but if you want to be able to look your friend in the face when you go back into that room I shouldn't tell you."

She swallowed loudly, "Okay."

Hotch sighed, "Come on, you can sit with us while I question them. But don't interrupt, I understand your faith that she didn't do it. But you still have to treat her as a suspect until those results come back. Can you do that? Or at least allow me to do so until we get them?"

She nodded and followed him back into the room, the man had moved to wrap an arm around the woman. And as he met Hotch's gaze he said in a clear voice, "I know it's against procedure to question us together, but please...She's been through enough."

"I'm aware of what she's been through. I'll still need to ask you both a few questions though." Hotch gestured at the table in the center of the room that he'd used to take the man's fingerprints. "Could the two of you come sit here? Just so I can take some notes?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Penelope move to her friend's side and help the woman to her feet and lead her over to the table. Spencer Reid stood and stared at Hotch for a moment before giving him a tight smile, "Thank you. Really. I know you don't have to be this kind to us."

Hotch nodded slightly hoping his gut was right about these two being innocent.

Spencer sighed as he settled himself in the chair next to JJ and her friend and across from the man who'd taken his fingerprints and DNA, somehow turning that into an almost obscene sexual act, not that Spencer minded overly much.

The beginning questions were terribly routine, "Where were you on Saturday at 6?" and "Were you and any of the other victims connected?" And Spencer sighed knowing that the questions probably wouldn't be getting anymore interesting.

Sure enough it wasn't long before was nodding and standing, "I'm afraid we'll need to keep you in custody until you're cleared."

"Are we going to be moved to a holding cell then?" Spencer knew he probably sounded sarcastic but he was tired, and sad, and the thought of spending time in a holding cell with who-knows-who-else for at least a day wasn't pleasant.

The man, who had studiously not met Spencer's gaze finally did; he looked vaguely appalled. JJ gave a vague wimper from somewhere beside him and the woman (who Spencer had gathered was named Penelope) stood slightly, "Sir, um, could I um...keep an eye on JJ? I just...really don't think she'd do well in a holding cell right now and..."

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, "No one is going into the holding cells, although you're right they should be assigned to an agent." He blinked for a moment, "You take Ms. Jareau and I suppose Mr. Reid is with me for the time being."

"He's a doctor you know. So if you're going to be ridiculously formal you should call him Doctor Reid, or Professor Reid." Spencer turned to blink at his blonde friend, but she just waved him off, "And my mother was Ms. Jareau. Call me JJ. Please."

"Alright JJ, I'll let Garcia get set up while _Doctor_ Reid and I go and work on the profile." The man made an exagerated motion for Spencer to follow him, and Spencer sighed as he pushed back from the table to follow the man.

Hotch _really _needed more Tylenol. If Haley had been there she'd have tutted about his liver and told him that his high stress 'lifestyle' was to blame, but there was a reason they'd gotten a divorce not long after their son was born.

But really that was besides the point; the point was gazing at a map thoughtfully and biting an all too tempting lip. The point was Dr. Spencer Reid. Who was technically a suspect, but rapidly becoming a consultant.

He was also rapidly making Hotch wish for things he had no business wanting.

"Oh my gosh."

The hushed exclaimation took Aaron by surprise but the yougner man was suddenly standing and pointing at the map; "That's it!"

Aaron blinked, "What's it?"

"The connection!" Spencer turned to him with a grin, "It's The Raven!"

Hotch blinked, "The Raven?"

"The Raven is an extremely posh Jazz Club in the French quarter, and all of the victims have performed there in the past two months." Spencer's grin turned smug, "That's what the connection is. It's a highly exclusive place to play, that's how he's choosing his victims."

Aaron blinked, before allowing himself to smile. "Dr. Reid, you are definitely on the team."


End file.
